Heat Haze Days
by Cari-Chan The Otaku
Summary: He always fails, every time. No matter what happens, he always fails. Alfred always dies on August 14th to the sound of mocking laughter, blood dripping everywhere, and the haze of the heat. Contains character death and gore. One-shot songfic for Kagerou Days. USUK


**A/N: Hello everyone! How are you?**

**First of all, thank you for reading! It means a lot to me as an author :)**

**Okay, so this is just a quick little one shot that I wrote in honor of the Kagerou Project, which is coming out next month. I am sooooo excited for that so I wrote a fic for one of the most popular song, Kagerou (meaning Heat Haze) Days. But instead, I put in Alfred and Arthur as the characters.**

**This is a human AU and Alfred and Arthur are both 16 years old. And they are boyfriends, so if you don't like boy x boy, then you don't have to read this.**

**Disclaimer: Cari-Chan does not own Hetalia, the Kagerou Project, or any of its characters (though I wish I did). Cari-Chan makes no profit off of this story.**

**Warnings: Pretty graphic descriptions of death scenes. If you don't like it, then don't read.**

**I hope that you enjoy this!**

* * *

Arthur squinted his eyes against the bright sun. It was a perfect day, not a cloud to be seen in the bright blue sky. It was one of the prettiest days that he had ever experienced. A hot one two. Arthur reached up to wipe the sweat beading on his forehead. Glancing at his phone, Arthur read the time. Twelve thirty noon on August fifteenth. Hmm, he should get going soon. He had to meet with the rest of the summer festival committee at one… why wasn't he there already?

" — Artie, you listening?"

Ah, that was why. The only reason he was sitting on a swing in this park.

Arthur smiled slightly at Alfred. "Of course. Please continue."

The American grinned back at his boyfriend knowingly. "Meh, it wasn't that interesting of a story, anyways. What's on your mind?"

Arthur laughed. Alfred, for whatever reason, could always see right through him. At first it had bothered him. But once they had gotten into a relationship, the Brit couldn't help but be thankful for it. "Nothing much, really. Just the whether. It's quite nice, isn't it?"

Alfred's smile faltered and he fixed a blank gaze onto the sky, petting his cat, Hero, absentmindedly. "I guess… but I don't really like the summertime."

"You? Not like summer?" Arthur cocked an impressive eyebrow. "You love the warm whether and going to the beach. Who are you and what have you done with my Alfred?"

The American gave a laugh, half forced and half wry. Arthur wasn't used to such a sound coming from his boyfriend. "Stuff has… changed, I guess. And it isn't really all that good."

Arthur opened his mouth to ask what, exactly, was different, but was stopped when Alfred suddenly started talking again. "What time is it?"

Arthur furrowed his brows before he gave a quick look to his phone again. "Twelve thirty-four. Why?"

"No reason," Alfred said as he stood up from his seat, Hero in his arms.

Arthur followed the other, swing rocking backwards as he did so. "Alright then. I'll call you as soon as I finish up with my committee meeting."

Alfred smiled, and for a split second, Arthur swore that he looked as though he were about to keel over and weep. "That'd be awesome if you could."

Arthur was about to respond when Hero leapt from his master's arms, running towards the street.

"Hey!" Alfred immediately followed pursuit, racing after his cat. Arthur watched, slightly amused at the American's antics.

That was, until he saw the shade of red pour from the crosswalk lights and the truck.

"Al — !" Arthur yelled out, reaching and calling out a little bit to late.

Alfred turned to face him and Arthur could see nothing but his blue eyes.

And then there was a shriek and red everywhere.

Arthur could only stare incredulously before his brain caught up to the rest of his senses. He placed a hand over his mouth and nose, the horrid, metallic smell flooding over him, as he stared at Alfred.

The normally happy boy lay on the street, drenched in blood from head to toe. His limbs were broken and smashed at odd angles from the collision. The prized bomber jacket was soaked to the point that it was entirely red. And those bright blue eyes… they were glazed over, lifeless.

"No…" Arthur croaked out, his voice hardly above a whisper. "No!"

A sadistic, hazy laugh assaulted his ears and Arthur turned towards the sound. A shimmering red figure stood there, lips pulled into a mocking sneer. "This is all for real," he practically sang, his voice far too similar to Arthur's own. "What you see is _exactly_ what you're going to get."

Arthur could feel himself trembling despite the intense heat as the mocking laughter and singing crickets blocked out all other sounds. He could feel his vision darkening and before he knew it, he was no longer conscious.

.:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:.

Arthur sat bolt upright, hands grasping out at empty air and breath coming out in pants. Once he realized that he was sitting on his bed, not watching blood dripping from his boyfriend's body, Arthur calmed his racing heart and took in a deep breath of air.

What type of dream had _that_ been? God, Arthur had never even seen something so gruesomely real before, dreams or otherwise.

Running a hand through his unruly hair, the Brit's eyes darted to find his phone. Snatching it up, he stared at the illuminated screen.

August fourteenth, some time before twelve thirty noon.

Arthur let out a relieved sigh. It had been a dream. Alfred was fine and he was probably sitting in the same park, where he spent most of his time.

Standing up and getting dressed, Arthur decided that he would visit Alfred today. If not to spend time with him, then to at least calm his nerves.

.:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:.

Arthur stared as Alfred talked aimlessly. The American was fine. Perfect, even. He wasn't getting hit by a truck or anything, so Arthur had no idea why he was so jittery.

Maybe it was the hazy heat. Maybe it was because of Hero, who idly sat in Alfred's hat. Maybe it was because everything seemed the same as it was in his dream.

" — Artie, you listening?"

Arthur smiled shakily at Alfred, hoping his nerves didn't show. "Of course. Please continue."

The American grinned back at his boyfriend knowingly. "Meh, it wasn't that interesting of a story, anyways. What's on your mind?"

This was far too uncanny.

"Not anything in particular. Just…"

"Hmm?"

Arthur decided to see just how similar his dream had been to reality. "The whether. It's quite nice, isn't it?"

Alfred's smile faltered and he fixed a blank gaze onto the sky, petting his cat, Hero, absentmindedly. "I guess… but I don't really like the summertime."

Arthur gulped. "You… don't like summer? I thought that it was your favorite season…"

The American gave a laugh, half forced and half wry. Arthur felt his blood grow cold. This… this had to be impossible. "Stuff has… changed, I guess. And it isn't really all that good."

Arthur could feel horror overtaking him, wanting to say something, do _something_, but he was cut off when Alfred started talking again. "What time is it?"

Arthur stared at his phone that was held in trembling hands. "Twelve thirty-three… why?"

"No reason," Alfred said as he stood up from his seat, Hero in his arms.

Arthur shot up. This couldn't be happening "Alright then. I'll call you as soon as I finish up with my committee meeting."

Alfred smiled, and for a split second, Arthur swore that he looked as though he were about to keel over and weep. "That'd be awesome if you could."

Arthur watched as Hero leapt from his master's arms, running towards the street.

"Hey!" Alfred shouted, making to chase after the cat. Arthur's eyes widened.

A battered body. Blood everywhere.

Arthur snatched at Alfred's arm, holding the limb tightly. He watched as the crosswalk light turned red and a truck zoomed pass, Hero already safe on the other side. Alfred didn't seem to notice, though the American was giving his boyfriend an odd look. "Artie? You okay there?"

"Ah, o-of course," Arthur managed to get out. "I, um… I think that the two of us should leave. Go somewhere else."

Alfred cocked his head to one side and smiled. "Whatever you want, Art."

Arthur took in a shaky breath as he turned around and made his way down the city streets, Alfred following close behind. Alfred was fine. Arthur had saved him. Maybe that horrible dream had been a warning, something that let Arthur know Alfred would be completely mutilated, something that let Arthur know what was happening so that it could be avoided. Arthur sent a quick prayer of thanks for the vision.

A gasp to his left caught Arthur's attention, two people staring up at the sky in terror. What was that about? And wait, hadn't Alfred been behind him, not in front, just a moment ago — ?

Arthur heard a high pitch ring out as lines of black fell from the sky, metal beams crashing down in front of him.

And Alfred stood in the middle of them, holes torn into his body as he was split into two.

Arthur shrieked and immediately reached for Alfred. Time seemed to slow down for a moment as heat engulfed him, the same chillingly hot voice resonating in his ears.

"Bet you wish you were asleep," the mocking voice pealed with laughter, "but it's not a dream!"

Arthur's eyes widened when he finally got a good look at the red mirage.

It looked just like _him_.

Before the Brit could do anything he was thrown backwards against the pavement, black swimming through his vision. _No!_ He thought. He could _not_ blackout now!

Alas, his brain was already slowing down and pulling him into sleep. Just before everything went dark, Arthur swore he could see a smile, dark and dreary, pulling at Alfred's bloodstained lips.

.:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:.

Arthur's eyes flew open and he reached for his phone.

August fourteenth, a bit before twelve thirty noon.

"No…" Arthur breathed out. "No no _no_!"

The Brit scrambled to throw on a jacket and he raced to the park. This couldn't be happening! It wasn't _possible_!

Sure enough, Alfred sat there on the park swing set, not a care in the world. He gently stroked Hero and glanced up upon hearing Arthur's pounding footsteps.

"Hey Ar — !"

"Hurry!" Arthur's hand latched onto Alfred's wrist and the Brit dragged the American down the street at a breakneck pace.

"Arthur, what's wrong?" Alfred gasped out, breath stolen from his lungs.

_Not the roads,_ Arthur thought to himself frantically, _and not under anything. Shit shit shit! What about the apartment complex? Yes! That would work!_

Arthur veered to the left, Alfred in tow, and charged up the stairs of the apartment complex that he lived in. The two teens climbed through the floors and Arthur didn't stop, not even when his legs felt like they would crumble underneath him and his lungs seemed to be on fire.

As soon as they finally reached the roof, both stopped to gasp for breath. Arthur scanned around for anything that could possibly present a threat.

Nothing.

Arthur felt a small smile form as he inhaled more oxygen. Safe.

"Oh, silly you," Arthur froze as the laughter flooded around him. The condescending, malicious laughter. "It's pointless."

Arthur snapped his gaze towards Alfred who had started to straighten up. No, Alfred was fine, he was —

He was slipping. Falling backwards and down the stairs.

"No!" Arthur screeched and reached out to grab Alfred, catching nothing but empty air as the American crashed and tumbled against the concrete stairway.

Arthur could feel the black swimming across his mind as he stared at Alfred's battered and bloody form at the very bottom of the place he had thought to be safe.

.:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:.

Arthur blinked his eyes open and stared hopelessly at the space on his ceiling.

Today marked… who the hell knew anymore? It had been August fourteenth for what felt like an eternity, endlessly blacking out to the laugher of the hazy heat. And Alfred died. Every time. Without fail in the most gruesome, bloody ways.

Once by falling into the sewers below the street, another being beat by a gang, and, more recently, an atrocious event involving scissors. Sometimes he just kept the two of them in the park, sometimes he took Hero away from Alfred. No matter what, the sweet, sunny American was killed.

Arthur sat up slowly. Alfred didn't deserve this. No one did. Fate was far too cruel to the both of them. There had to be a solution, a way out, something, _anything_.

And then it hit him. Of course, it was so simple. And… and even if it didn't work, then at least their suffering would be over. Today… today August fourteenth would finally have an end.

.:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:.

Arthur watched, robotically, as he and Alfred repeated the same scene under the swing set that Arthur knew by heart. When Alfred confessed his hate for summer, Arthur decided that he was going to break script, if only for a moment.

"You know," Arthur said, "I hate summer, too. Quite dreadful, actually."

Alfred, of course, looked somewhat confused at the statement but smiled anyway and continued to chat.

And then he stood and asked for the time.

"Twelve thirty-four," Arthur replied automatically, knowing the exact time.

"Thanks!" Alfred chirped. Hero shifted in his owner's hold. Then the round cat jumped from Alfred and bounded into the street.

"Hey!" Alfred yelled, following in hot pursuit.

Arthur didn't even have to look in order to know that the light had changed, that the truck was barreling down the road, or that Hero was safe on the other side. He had repeated this too many times not to know. And he knew that he would change it.

At the very last second, Arthur grabbed Alfred and pushed himself off of his boyfriend's chest, the momentum causing himself to rocket forwards and Alfred to stumble backwards.

And suddenly, the truck crashed into Arthur and there was red everywhere. But this time, it wasn't Alfred's blood.

It was his own.

Arthur watched as Alfred's face morphed into a look of pure horror, almost as if it were a hazy reflection of his own from the times the American had died. The thick metallic scent rose around him once again, but one thing was missing.

The laughter.

That condescending, mocking laughter was gone, silenced, nonexistent. No "what you see is exactly what you're gonna get!" or "this isn't a dream!" sang out through the twisted lips of the heat.

Once again, Arthur finally felt himself blacking out, but this time had been different. He had finally saved Alfred.

And that was all that mattered.

.:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:..:*~*:.

Blue eyes blinked open as Alfred woke up, slowly straightening himself up so that he was sitting up in his bed. Hero quietly padded towards his master before leaping onto the bed. Alfred immediately cradled the cat into his arms.

"Damn," Alfred whispered as tears began to leak from him eyes, "I… I failed again. I'm so sorry Arthur."

But there wasn't anytime for him to sob. Alfred knew what he needed to do.

Go to the park and stop Arthur from the cycles that he had been going through. Make Arthur stop dying. Like the Brit had every August fourteenth.

And stop the mirage of blue that laughed every time that he failed.

* * *

**A/N: Yup, that's it. I hope that you liked reading this.**

**If you haven't seen Kagerou Days, then I suggest that you watch the video (if you aren't too squeamish, that is).**

**About what Arthur's heat haze says, part of it is from the English dub and the other part is from the translation. As for the timeline of the cycles, in the dub, the cycles last for ten years. In the translation, the cycles last for decades, so you can decide how long you think everything lasted.**

**So yeah, I just decided to write this on a whim. I hope that you liked it!**

**Please review and/or favorite. Follows are nice too, but seeing as this is a one-shot, I personally wouldn't do it. If you want to follow, though, go for it. It's the thought that counts. :D**

**Until next time,**

**~Cari-chan**


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